


The whole truth and nothing but

by Nakeycatstakebaths



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Teacher Clarke, Clarke can't lie, F/M, History Teacher Bellamy, Mild brain injury, bellamy takes care of clarke, mild enemies to friends to lovers, truth telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths
Summary: After a well-placed blood clot and trip to the hospital, Clarke finds herself suddenly unable to lie.With her work-enemy and secret crush tending to her bedside, this sudden honesty seems dead set on getting her into trouble, especially when it comes to Bellamy.Whether or not he minds her half baked confessions, is another question entirely.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 34
Kudos: 326





	The whole truth and nothing but

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elora_Lane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elora_Lane/gifts).



> Big, huge, massive thanks to @kt_anansi for this cool prompt, all her support and the edits she provided to help make this little story what it is. 
> 
> p.s.   
> This story takes place in a hospital and Clarke is inpatient for most of it, nothing bad happens and she turns out fine, but if you have triggers related to hospitals I just wanted to mention it in case anyone needs to avoid.

Clarke blinked. Once, twice, three times, eyes adjusting to the harsh overhead light. She had no idea where she was, how she got there, what time it was. She tried to sit up in a panic, but a tug against her arms brought her back to a lying position, followed by a sharp sting in the crook of her elbow.

“Good morning sunshine,” a kind-faced blonde woman grinned, leaning over Clarke so she could adjust a clear tube connected to her arm. That was when she noticed the beeping machines, the thin paper gown draped across her legs, the sharp sterile sting of the disinfectant.

“Wha—” she tried to speak, but her throat was dry, words coming out in a soft croak.

“I’ll get ya some water honey and I’ll let your boyfriend know you’re awake,” the woman said gently, squeezing Clarke’s arm reassuringly as she completed her exam.

Before Clarke could get out that she didn’t have a boyfriend, the nurse was gone. What the hell was going on? How did she get here? Why did that woman think she had a boyfriend?

She carefully ran her unattached arm over her body, feeling for a reason that she might be lying in this bed. Her legs felt fine, so did her stomach, arms, neck…finally, she felt it. A thick, rough bandage, wrapped around her head. Her hair was chopped short, a messy lob, the jagged edges skimming her shoulders.

Ugh, she was going to have to even that out.

So, she must’ve hit her head, but the question was when? Where?

Wracking her brain, she tried to remember the last thing she did, who she last talked to. But it came back blank, sending a throbbing pain right across the center of her forehead.

Note to self, don’t do that.

“Here you go, drink up, it’ll make you feel better,” the nurse instructed, reappearing from the hallway. “The doctor will be in here to talk to you in a few minutes. He can wait with you.”

Before Clarke could ask anymore questions, she was gone.

It was only then that she realized there was another person in the room, standing in the doorway, shoulders stiff, sheepish expression on his face, hands stuffed into the pockets of his khakis.

Bellamy Blake.

Bellamy Blake the history teacher at her school, the one who she snuck peeks at from across the teacher’s lounge when she thought he wasn’t looking, the one who she’s had a crush on since her first day at work, who she fought with constantly because—well, because he was cocky and had bad priorities.

He was here, at the hospital…and she probably looked like warmed over death. Perfect.

“I uhh…I know I’m probably not who you want here with you,” he began awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he cautiously stepped into her room.

“I spend over half my day staring at you, why wouldn’t I want you here,” Clarke blurted out, eyes widening before she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Bellamy’s eyes widened too, a faint blush splaying across his cheeks, filling in the spaces between his freckles.

He was so hot it was literally unfair.

His eyebrows shot up even further and Clarke realized she had said that out loud.  _ What the hell was wrong with her _ ? She must’ve hit her head really hard if she was being this honest.

“I…um…sorry, I don’t really know what’s going on. Do you know why I’m here?” she tried, desperately steering the conversation away from her awkward fawning over him. She could feel her whole body heating as she tried to look at his forehead instead of directly into his eyes.

“We were in the parking lot two days ago and you just kind of collapsed beside your car. I called 9-1-1 and they whisked me into the ambulance with you and then just left me in the waiting room, so I don’t know what actually happened. The whole thing was kind of terrifying, I thought you were—I thought you were fucking with me at first but then you didn’t get up and I was just—” he explained, sitting heavily in the chair beside her bed, close enough that she could smell his woodsy cologne. From this close, she could see he looked exhausted, the harsh overhead light making his skin look off color and emphasized the purple circles under his eyes. “I’ve never felt so helpless.”

Wordlessly, she reached out, covering his hand with hers. She couldn’t believe he stayed, that he had been the one to save her life.

“I’ve been here for two days? Have you been here this entire time?”

“Yeah, we got here on Wednesday and it’s Friday now. You were in a medically induced coma, I couldn’t just walk out of here like nothing happened.”

“Thank you,” she smiled softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad it was you, even if you hate me most of the time it’s good to know you wouldn’t let me die.” 

She hadn’t exactly planned on telling him the second part, but it was out there now. Normally, she would never be so transparent, especially with Bellamy no less. If anything, she was more guarded around him than she was around everyone else. She had kept this crush a secret for almost three years and suddenly she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“I’m glad it was me too…and I’m glad you’re okay,” he said sincerely, dodging the last part of her statement entirely. She didn’t really need the confirmation that he didn’t like her but it still stung all the same. 

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus, but I’m alive so that’s something.”

“That’s more than something.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both staring down at her blue, floral bedsheet. She didn’t know what to say, it was clear that he didn’t either. Their hands were still joined, the dry heat of his palm radiating into hers. She longed to say something biting, to draw some of the tension from this moment.

“You know I have a lot of fantasies about how we finally talk without trying to kill each other but this was definitely not one of them,” she blurted out once again, a slow churn of regret forming in her stomach as yet another misplaced confession spilled out…that wasn’t exactly biting.

What.

The. 

Hell?

Bellamy coughed nervously, clearly thrown off by her unprecedented honesty. She couldn’t exactly blame him, they didn’t really know each other, had never had anything even closely resembling a civil conversation.

“Are you okay…? Like beyond the whole in a hospital bed thing—you’re acting—”

“Like I can’t control my mouth?”

“I wasn’t going to say it like that…but yeah?”

Clarke shrugged, about to try her biting comment again, before a chiseled doctor returned, sunny nurse in tow. He introduced himself as Dr. Jaha, checked her eyes, peeked under her dressing, scanned the chart without so much as saying a word.

Bellamy looked uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure whether he should stay or go. She wasn’t sure either, but it was nice to have a familiar face in the room, someone to hold her hand…even if it was Bellamy. Carefully, she nodded at him, giving him a closed mouth smile.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of poking and prodding, Dr. Jaha finally stepped back, jotting a few more notes onto his sheet before looking up at her. His face was serious, tone even as he explained that she had one of the largest blood clots he’d seen in his career. She hadn’t just hit her head, she had major brain surgery. For the past three years of her life, she was walking around with a literal ticking time bomb in her skull.

“You’re a very lucky woman, if this young man hadn’t been with you, we probably wouldn’t be speaking. Get some rest, your body needs it, you’ve been through a lot today. Do you have any questions?”

“I’m—just trying to process what is happening. Is this…common? Can it come back?” she asked, an edge of panic bleeding into her voice.

“It’s unlikely to come back, I’ll prescribe you some blood thinners that you will be on for life but otherwise you should be able to return to your normal routine in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? When can I go home?”

She could feel the sting of tears, heat filling her body as she realized that this wasn’t an in and out kind of thing, there was no way she would go to be able to go home today. She was trapped in this hospital and the only person that she had by her side was Bellamy Blake.

“It’s going to a while…you just had major surgery, we will need to observe you for at least a few days to ensure the surgery was done correctly.”

“What do you mean correctly?” Bellamy asked quietly, speaking for the first time since the doctor entered the room.

“The brain is very complex; we still don’t understand exactly how it works. Sometimes surgery can impact memory or other functions. In cases like this it’s usually mild, if present, but it can take a few hours to show up.”

Dr. Jaha smiled reassuringly, clicking his pen as he looked between them. Clarke’s stomach was still turning as his words flurried around her head, the fear of permanent brain damage sending her into another spiral of panic.

“Would increased honesty be a possible side effect? Like if I suddenly can’t seem to keep my thoughts to myself?” She asked, flicking her gaze toward Bellamy. His brow scrunched but he remained silent, watching her intently as the doctor frowned.

“It’s—well it’s possible. It could just be a side effect of the anesthesia, but if you notice it continuing, we will need to run some scans.”

Dr. Jaha gave instructions to monitor Clarke’s behavior before his pager went off. Scanning his notes one last time, he reminded Bellamy to keep her away from screens and page them if she had any nausea. 

With a click of his pen and a kind smile, he and the nurse both disappeared back into the crowded hallway. Clarke tracked their movements, belatedly wishing they could stay just a little longer. Without the distraction, it was just her and Bellamy and a million different ways she could put her foot in her mouth. 

“You don’t have to stay; I’m going to be here for a while. You probably have a life to get back to,” she said, breaking the silence between them.

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself,” he answered firmly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the pleather chair. “But if you don’t want me here, I can call someone else for you.”

“There’s nobody else to call…”

_ Shit. She had done it again, why didn’t she lie? Tell him to call a random number, leave a message, pretend like there was someone coming for her. _ She meant to. Tried to. But the words weren’t coming out, not the way she wanted them to. 

“Nobody?”

“Harper is my best friend, but she just had a baby…there’s enough going on for her already, she doesn’t really have time and she doesn’t need the stress.”

“The English teacher? I didn’t know she had her baby.”

“Of course you didn’t. She had a little boy, two weeks ago.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re just so…unfriendly.”

“I am not unfriendly!” Bellamy said indignantly, leaning his elbows on the bed as he whisper-shouted at her.

Clarke shrugged, resting back against her pillows. She didn’t say anything she hadn’t been thinking for a long time, there was no way that Bellamy wasn’t playing dumb right now, like he didn’t know that she called him grumpy cat behind his back.

“Bellamy, our classrooms are right across the hall from each other and we never talk.”

“Because you don’t like me. Since the day we’ve met I’ve been on your shit list.”

“Only because I don’t know what to do with you! You can’t have that face and that body and be good with kids and then be so grouchy to the rest of the world,” she snapped back, words coming out jumbled, not at all the way she had formulated them in her head. 

“I—uhh—” he stuttered, seemingly at a loss for words, possibly for the first time ever.

_ I didn’t mean it like that  _ she thought, ordering her brain to put the words in the right order, to somehow cover up what she just said, what she just admitted.  _ Say it. C’mon, cooperate _ .

“I meant what I said,” was what actually came out, mouth not quite getting the memo of what she wanted it to say.

“I think that anesthetic really did a number on you…” he chuckled, standing to fish her phone out of her jacket.

_ Agree with him. He’s giving you an out, letting you call this all a dream and forget it. C’mon agree with him. _

“I feel fine.”

Something was wrong. This wasn’t the anesthetic talking…she just couldn’t lie. Every time she tried to bend the truth even a little, the wrong words came out, the true words. This was bad. 

_ This was really really bad. _

Of course this happened in front of Bellamy, in front of someone she had to keep a secret in front of. At the rate she was going he probably already knew, was probably laughing at her in his head but was just too polite to show it.

“You have like 30 texts from someone named Madi,” Bellamy said, flipping through her notifications, holding her phone just out of reach. It didn’t matter, the world still had an edge of fuzz to it, she probably couldn’t read anyway. “And like 10 from Harper and also 2 Tinder messages.”

He smirked at the last part, one eyebrow raised as he looked at her over her phone screen. Her floral phone case looked ridiculous in his hand, entirely too small for the width of his palm. His hands were enormous…and her mind wandered to how they would feel around her waist, against her cheek.

If she actually couldn’t lie, she was absolutely fucked. There was no way she would last alone with him without telling him how many times she’s thought about him fucking her against the wall of her classroom.

“Madi is my mentee from The Boys and Girls Club and Harper sends me like a million pictures a day of her son,” she explained, trying to draw her mind as far away from his hands and body as possible. 

“And the Tinder messages?” he prodded, clearly enjoying the way it made her squirm.

As much as she wanted to strangle him, this was the perfect time to test if she could really lie, she could make up something about her Tinder account. It had to be ridiculous, not a white lie, something that would really put this theory to the test.

_ Okay tell him you’re doing a social experiment. _

“I haven’t had sex in over a year,” is what actually came out of her mouth, followed by, “Tinder is the only platform that shows you guys and girls at the same time without forcing you to switch settings.”

This time it was Bellamy’s turn to flush a deep red, his hand flexing against his thigh, the other running nervously through his hair; as her phone lay lifeless on the side of her bed while they both sat in a thick, awkward, silence.

She couldn’t believe she had said that out loud, that she actually admitted to him that she had been celibate for over a year. Great, now he officially thought she was pathetic.

But embarrassing as it was, at least she knew for sure now, she couldn’t lie.

“I—genuinely don’t know how to respond to that.”

“I don’t really know how I want you to respond to that either.”

“What you said earlier…it’s true isn’t it? Your brain can only be honest.”

He was quick, she had to give him that. There was no way for her to hide it from him, especially if she couldn’t lie.

“I think it’s actually more than that, it’s actively keeping me from lying,” she admitted, weary of how he would use this information, but she needed to tell someone about this, needed to know she wasn’t totally crazy.

“Let’s test this…something smaller this time, less elaborate.”

“Your teacher brain is showing,” she teased, nudging his arm, there was no bite to it but it felt more normal than anything, a relief amid all this.

He rolled his eyes, corners of his mouth tugging into a faint smile.

“I’m going to ask you what color your hair is, and you’re going to tell me that it’s green.”

“Why green?”

“It’s my favorite color,” he shrugged, propping his chin on his hand so he could lean on the side of her bed.

She filed away the fun fact, it was the first real thing she knew about Bellamy, the first piece of information he had given her about himself. Even if it was small, it was something.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“What color is your hair?”

_ Green, green, green. Tell him its green. His favorite color is green. _

“My hair is brown-ish but I dye it blonde,” she said, hand moving up to the ends of her hair, until she once again remembered that it was cut and jagged and probably looked like a total disaster.

“I think that’s all the confirmation we need.”

***

The inability to lie, it turned out, was a consequence of brain swelling, a side effect which her medical team hoped would disappear on its own as she began to heal. But until then, she was trapped in a hospital bed with nothing to do except listen to the bustle around her and hang out with Bellamy. Bellamy who still was refusing to leave her bedside.

“Let’s play a game,” he said, stepping out of the bathroom in a fresh set of clothes, hair still a little wet on the ends. She had learned in the past three days that he managed to look good no matter what he was doing or wearing, it was unfair really, especially considering how disheveled she looked.

“You know you can go home to shower if you want, I’m not going to die if I’m left alone for an hour.”

“I promised Harper I would take care of you…also, you know you would be bored without me.”

She watched silently as he tucked his dirty clothes into an overnight bag, folding them neatly and putting his toothbrush back into a tiny pouch. There was an intimacy to seeing this part of his life, what his pajamas looked like, what brand of toothpaste he used, what he looked like first thing in the morning. All things she never thought she would know about him, especially not in this setting.

“Why are you being so nice to me? And don’t try to tell me it’s because of Harper,” she asked, for once, embracing her brutal honesty. The one thing it did was make her brave. She was dying to know. Only a few days ago, they got into a massive argument over whether the art budget or the sports budget deserved a portion of the total surplus. It was a fight so big that it had cleared the entire teacher’s lounge based on the volume alone. And now he was dutifully sitting by her bedside, reading her the newspaper and playing endless rounds of Uno.

“Do you actually want me to leave?” he asked back, there wasn’t a trace of amusement on his face as he turned to look at her, big brown eyes wide and questioning.

Her heart squeezed at the question, even though Bellamy irritated her on a good day, something about him had always intrigued her. She always had a feeling that he wasn’t as cocky and arrogant as he made himself seem at school and being with him the last few days confirmed it. This was going beyond a physical infatuation, the more she got to know him, the more she liked him. 

It wasn’t like she could lie to him, either she had to sit here and stare at him in complete silence, or she had to tell him the truth.

“I like having you here, I don’t actually want you to leave. I’m really glad I’m not alone,” she admitted, allowing herself to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable as his eyes bore into hers but for a minute, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of relief, like he had been hoping she would ask him to stay.

Maybe she was really losing it.

***

“Why’d you become an art teacher?” Bellamy asked, sprawled out on the couch in her room, head turned slightly to the side so he could see her.

“Art quiets the noise in my brain, gives me a space outside my everyday life to just exist,” she said carefully, quietly, handing a small part of herself over to him, a private piece of what made her who she was. “Why history?”

“I like the idea that anything is survivable, that the human race has endured so much and yet—here we stand,” he answered, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. “The stories are fun too.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Myths and things, my mom used to read them to me as a kid and I loved visualizing them, seeing all these crazy things in my head. I try to teach one or two every year to my classes.”

“Hmmm, maybe I’ll stop by and listen in one day,” she mused, throwing the idea out as a way to test his reaction, to gauge whether this friendship would only exist within the walls of this hospital. She really hoped not. This version of Bellamy was sweet and funny, so kind to everyone, she wanted this version forever, wanted him to be her friend—maybe more than that.

“I brought a book to do my lesson planning for the fall, I could read you one now if you want?” he asked hopefully, eyes lighting up as he sprung up from the couch, reaching to root through his duffel bag.

It was cute really, how excited he got over something so small. She could indulge him, even though the idea of mythology wasn’t exactly interesting to her, she would listen until her ears fell off if she got to see that look on his face again.

“This whole time I had you pegged as a dumb jock...clearly I was wrong,” she admitted, scooting over in her bed to allow for him to lean his elbows on the side, his forearms resting against the curve of her thigh as he placed the book on her lap.

“You realize I’m a history teacher right?”

“Yes, obviously, but all your friends are woodshop and gym teachers,” she shrugged, sitting up in her bed so she could see the book more clearly. “And you seem very invested in the athletic budget.”

“I went to college on a football scholarship, I think it’s important for kids to have those opportunities. Not everyone has parents who can pay for that kind of thing,” he sighed, flipping through the book absently.

For the entire first year she taught at Ark Middle, Bellamy called her princess. It bothered her to no end, a mocking nickname, a bright shining beacon to her privilege, a constant draw to the fact that the gymnasium was named after her mother.

It had been their first step on their tumultuous relationship, they got off on the wrong foot and never really made up for it. She always wondered why it bothered him so much, why he fixated on her specifically. Over the years the nickname faded away and she got over it, even if she and Bellamy never really recovered from that first year of arguing.

The comment poked at an old wound, niggled at something painful under her skin.

“You know I worked for my job at the school, I didn’t get it because of who my mother  _ was _ .”

Another long silence, the weight of their interactions over the past three years settling between them. She couldn’t read his expression, it was so hard to tell what he was thinking, she wished this brain injury had led her to being able to read minds instead of just blurting out embarrassing nonsense.

“I’ve never thought you were a bad teacher Clarke. I used to be really angry about the fact that not everyone had to kill themselves to teach at a school like Ark…I kind of took it out on you, so—I’m sorry about that,” he shrugged, flicking his gaze down to the book in her lap.

Did he just apologize? Had she entered another dimension? 

“Yeah, that was an apology...not sure about the alternate dimension thing,” he chuckled, clearly amused at her slip up. 

_ She really needed to watch her mouth, apparently she couldn’t tell the difference between her thoughts and the real world anymore, great, just great.  _

This was so strange. Never in a million years did she think that she would hear those words come out of his mouth, that she would actually enjoy their time spent together. Something deep in her longed to reach out and tangle her fingers in his messy hair, to rake her fingers against his scalp, pull his head into her lap, ask him about his life before she met him. But she couldn’t do that, it was too soon, this hospital was making them both act crazy.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t exactly give you much reason to be nice to me,” she said instead, running a finger over the pages of the book.

He smiled at her, a real genuine smile, no pity in sight before turning back to the book, delving into the story. His voice shifted as he began to read, it was gentle, explanatory. This was teacher Bellamy, with his messy curls and dark, thick glasses—the Bellamy she was used to seeing, the one she stared at from across the teacher’s lounge at least once a day. But something about him was different or maybe it was just the way she felt about him that was different, only time would tell.

***

Clarke’s room was almost dark, the blinds wide open so she could see the glittering lights of downtown Arkadia filtering through her window. She lost all sense of time while being here, she had no idea how many days had passed, how much time she spent lying in her bed. Bellamy rarely left her side, only to shower or get food, sometimes he stole milk and cookies off the nurse’s cart, stuffing them in his pockets until the door closed firmly behind him.

She still wasn’t entirely sure why he was so determined not to leave her, surely he didn’t want to spend his entire summer inside of a stuffy, cold hospital room. She didn’t exactly look her best either. But he was firm, there was no getting rid of him, not unless she wanted to outright order him to leave…and with her inability to lie, that was next to impossible.

Harper came to visit her today, brought a phone full of pictures to show her and armfuls of snacks. It was the first time Bellamy seemed okay with leaving the hospital, he didn’t seem surprised to see Harper and Harper didn’t seem surprised to see him. Clarke had a feeling they were discussing her on the daily, the updates were probably the only reason she hadn’t forced herself into the room. They probably planned this visit so he could go home to get more clothes. She didn’t love being talked about like a little kid, but it was kind of the product of being bedridden.

“Do you actually think I look skinny?” Harper asked, turning to the side so she could examine herself in the bathroom mirror.

“Harp, I literally can’t lie to you,” Clarke sighed, flipping through the pages of the sketchbook Harper had brought for her.

“I can’t believe that’s a thing that can actually happen…the brain is so weird.”

“No kidding, it’s been a ride.”

“So have you spilled your guts to Bellamy yet? Is that why he’s literally nursing you to back health? Half the people on this floor think he’s your husband.”

“He is not nursing me back to health!” Clarke huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. He wasn’t nursing her, that much was for sure—but he was keeping her sane so it wasn’t technically a lie, it’s not like he was sitting in her bed and spoon feeding her Jello.

“He’s just refusing to leave your side for any reason, despite the fact that you guys have been constantly fighting for the past three years?”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“I knew he liked you this entire time,” Harper chuckled, laughing conspiratorially as she sat back down on the edge of Clarke’s bed.

“He does not like me.”

“Nobody puts that much effort into purposely antagonizing someone they don’t like. Your fights have a weird sexual energy to them, it’s why you draw crowds when you bicker, the 65+ language arts teachers get a real kick out of it.”

Clarke was speechless, she didn’t really have a valid defense to that. Harper was right, even Clarke knew that. It was the root of all her fantasies, that her and Bellamy’s fights would build up so much tension that he would just slam her up against the wall and fuck her till she couldn’t see straight.

“That fact that you’re not answering means you know I’m right, since you can’t give your usual bullshit excuse that you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Clarke sighed, tipping her head back against her pillow and staring up at the stucco white ceiling tiles. There really was no point in bullshitting with Harper, especially not now.

“What if he’s just doing this because he feels bad that I almost died?”

“If he had just dropped you off here and then left once he knew you were okay then I could see that but he’s been here for over a week, he won’t even leave to take a shower, the only reason he left today is because I promised him I wouldn’t leave until he got back.”

“Okay, he’s actually been kind of amazing,” she admitted, letting a gentle smile cross her face as a flutter of butterflies filled her stomach. It had been a long time since she felt this way about someone, giddy, excited. “It’s been a long time since I’ve let someone take care of me like this.”

“I know. He’s a really nice guy Clarke, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you just let yourself be honest with him, especially considering your little problem.”

“I don’t really want to say anything until this wears off though, I don’t want him to think my brain is forcing me to do something.”

“You both overthink everything, this is going to take forever,” Harper groaned, flopping forward so she was lying beside Clarke.

***

It was nice to see Harper after so long, to hear all about baby Jordan and Monty, about her life.  As of late, hearing about Harper's life tended to make Clarke a bit sad. She wasn't jealous, no. It was just tough to feel left behind- as if all her friends were getting married and settling down. Clarke longed to have that, to make a family with someone. 

That was the best part of this thing with Bellamy, the companionship of it, he was someone she could come share her thoughts with, show her doodles to, talk to as she fell asleep. She was getting entirely too used to his presence, it was going to be hard to go back to her empty apartment and her regular life after this.

“Wanna do something fun?” Bellamy asked, breaking the silence between them as he emerged from the bathroom in his pajamas.

“What did you have in mind?” she replied, carefully climbing out of bed and collecting her pajamas to change, she finally got the all-clear to stand up again which meant she could wear something other than her gross hospital gown and sit in places other than her bed.

Bellamy dutifully turned around, keeping his eyes fixed on the open window, watching the tiny dots of people walking below. It was a Friday night and the quiet buzz of the city could be heard through the air, the excitement of students celebrating the weekend, of people going out to dinner, heading to the bars.

Harper had brought her some pajamas… and, in her attempt to be helpful, they were a little more suggestive than Clarke would’ve liked. Booty shorts and a very tight tank top were not exactly what she had in mind when she asked for hospital appropriate pajamas, but it wasn’t like she had much choice, at least there were also fuzzy socks stuffed in the bottom of the bag.

Pulling the ends of her messy hair into a low bun, she cleared her throat for him to turn back around, suddenly nervous at the idea of Bellamy seeing her with so much skin exposed. He had only really seen her in conservative school clothes and her gross hospital gown, the thought of his eyes on her like this made a flash of heat run through her body.

He coughed slightly when he took in what she was wearing and she resisted the urge to cover the tops of her breast with crossed arms, instead following his gaze as his eyes quickly scanned her body, lingering just slightly on the expanse of her legs and her chest.

“I—uhh—” he stuttered, voice rough, a little gravely, turning quickly to dig through his bag again, pulling his eyes away from her body. “Thought we could even the playing field a little.”

He produced three mini bottles of Grey Goose, lining them up on the small coffee table in front of the couch before taking a seat on one end and gesturing for her to sit across from him.

“You’re tempting me with that alcohol, I’m strictly on a kindergarten diet right now,” she moaned, sitting on the limp cushion and folding her legs underneath her. She wanted to stretch them out, to test the waters but there was time for that, based on how much alcohol was in front of him, they were in for an interesting night.

“I brought something for you too,” he grinned cheekily, pulling out a carton of milk and a handful of cookies from his bag.

“My hero,” she fake swooned, taking the milk carton and pulling the lip, careful not to give herself a milk mustache as she took a swig. Bellamy copied her motion, twisting the top off the tiny bottle, even smaller in his hands and chugged it in one go, shuddering at the sting of the liquor. “So what’s the game here?”

“I ask you a question and you gotta answer honestly and vice versa,” he instructed, leaning back against the couch, letting his arm drape across the back, emphasizing the width of his chest, the tight definition in his bicep. “It’s like twenty questions.”

“That’s not how you play twenty questions at all, you dummy.”

“Hey don’t call me a dummy, dummy!”

“How do I know you’re not lying though? I have a built in honesty system here,” she asked, tapping a finger against her temple.

“You just gotta trust me,” he shrugged, smiling at her warmly, taking another drink from his second bottle. “This will probably help too…I’m not a big drinker so it usually doesn’t take much.”

He finished his second bottle and it was clear the buzz was already getting to him, soft red glow filling his cheeks, his words sticking together just a little as they chatted aimlessly.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” she said, a flush of nerves returning as she tipped her head to look at him. “First three words that come to mind when you think of me?”

“Terrifying, impressive…” he began, ticking off the words on his fingers as he spoke. “Beautiful.”

She inhaled sharply at that, suddenly grateful for the darkened room. That was…unexpected.

“What about me? Three words.”

“Intelligent, determined…breathtaking, frustrating, sexy,” she admitted, not even resisting the urge to keep rambling beyond the word limit. He was drunk, if there was ever a time to let herself embrace the honesty factor, it was now.

“Sexy, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late, it’s inflating as we speak. What about me is sexy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

_ Okay, tone it down, don’t give him too much. How much can you tell him without lying? Don’t tell him about the classroom fantasy, whatever you do, do not tell him about the classroom fantasy. _

“Hey, it’s my turn to ask the questions,” she deflected, not really trusting herself to keep her brain in check. “Your arms are pretty nice though.”

Dammit.

He chuckled at her confession, putting down the tiny bottle so he could curl up against the arm of the couch, elbows resting atop his knees, purposely flexing his biceps, smirking when he caught her eyes flick down to his body.

“You’ve got great lips, pink and soft, the top one curls just a little, adds to the princess look—and that mole, it’s like someone drew you,” he said unprompted, words soft, eyes searching hers, studying her face, not even waiting for her to ask him the question.

His words caught her off guard, causing her to choke slightly on her sip of milk, hand flying up to trail over her lips. It threw her off guard, his words were purposeful, practiced, like he had been sitting on them for a while, like he spent time looking at her, tracing her features. _ Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he doing it on purpose? Did he watch her from across the room when she wasn’t looking too?  _

The air between them grew heavy and she scooted just a little closer, unraveling her legs from underneath her, stretching out so her toes skimmed his ankles. Her thoughts were still swirling around her head, processing his words.  _ Could he--could it be possible that Harper was right, that he actually felt the same way?  _

It didn’t feel possible, but the way he was looking at her from across the couch, it made her head spin, moreso than the brain injury did on a regular basis anyway. 

“Do you actually dislike me as much as you make it seem?” he asked quietly, tone noticeably more serious than when he was speaking only a few moments earlier. Even in the dark, she found his eyes easily, they were soft, vulnerable, searching, like he had been sitting on this question for a long time, building up the courage to finally ask. 

“I don’t dislike you at all…” 

_ Might as well just embrace it, she didn’t like the idea that he genuinely thought she hated him, that maybe he hadn’t actually been onto her this entire time.  _

“Really? You sure act like you do.” 

“We got off on the wrong foot, you know that, it’s just how we are...we bicker.” 

“Yeah but I’ve tried to fix things, I invited you to my barbeque last summer and you didn’t come. I saw the notification Clarke, you didn’t even open the E-vite.” 

The barbeque. 

She forgot about that, forgot about how Harper spent hours trying to convince her to come but she refused, spent the night looking at people’s posts on Instagram while she sat on her couch. 

“I couldn’t do it. You were with Gina and you guys were so cute and happy. I couldn’t come to your house alone and then watch you be in love. It just hurt too much. There was nothing I could do about it, it’s not like you owed me anything, we barely knew each other.” 

Well, there it was. The truth was out. He knew, that was that. 

“That doesn’t make any sense, you called me a raging asshole five different times last year. Why would you have been upset that I was with Gina?” 

He really was going to make her spell it out, wasn’t he? She was in too deep now, might as well keep going. 

“I used to use ‘raging asshole’ as code for ‘damn I love it when your jaw ticks like that’,” she blurted out, rubbing her temples at just how brutally honest that was. 

A soft grunt escaped from Bellamy’s lips, followed by complete silence as he stared at her, seemingly at a loss for words. 

_ Mission control, abort, this was a bad idea.  _

She had freaked him out, made him completely uncomfortable and totally ruined whatever they had going on.

Stupid brutal honesty. 

“You do this biting thing with your lip when you’re mad. It’s usually my cue to leave in the middle of an argument because it goes straight to--” he trailed off, but the implication was clear. 

That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting, at all. She didn’t know how to respond to that, couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on. His words sent a rush of heat through her body, a throbbing pulse all the way to her core. 

“To your what?” she probed, leaning forward just slightly, enough that she could see the outline of his face in the dark, and could smell the clean scent of his soap. 

“I think you forgot that one of us can still lie…” 

“That’s not the way this game works, Bell.” 

The nickname was heavy on her tongue, felt unfamiliar but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead he leaned a little further into her space, planting his hands on the tops of her thighs, sliding them up her sides, burning a trail of heat through her thin tank top. Heavy, sticky heat settled between her thighs, her hand reaching out to finally,  _ finally _ cup his jaw, thumb smoothing over the muscle, easing the tension he always kept there. 

She studied his face, strong brow, deep brown eyes, sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks. He was so handsome it was almost painful, she never thought she would get to see him this close, that they would get a moment like this together. 

Her heart was thudding in anticipation as she watched his eyes flicker down to her lips, tongue darting out to wet his own as they studied each other, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room. 

Feeding into her last rush of bravery, she leaned in, pulse racing as she anticipated the feel of his lips against hers, a taste of relief after years of longing. 

“Wait,” he interrupted, hand coming up to rest against the back of her head, holding her in place. His voice was ragged, raspy, full of heat, which only made her more confused.  _ Why did he stop her?  _ “We can’t do it like this.” 

“What? Why?” she asked, hurt flashing in her chest. 

“I want this, I really want this, but I’m drunk and you’re--not yourself right now and I don’t want our first kiss to be like this,” he said carefully, stroking her hair soothingly, hand stopping just short of where her bandage began. 

A rush of relief washed through her, followed by a wave of fondness. He wanted this, wanted her. 

God, he was nothing like she expected, nothing like she thought he was. 

This Bellamy, the one she had gotten to know in the past week, was the kind of person she always dreamed of spending her life with, the person she never thought she would find. And honestly, the most shocking part was that he wanted her back, wanted her just as badly as she wanted him, he wanted their first kiss to be special. 

Closing the distance between them, she pressed a careful kiss to his nose, so light she barely registered the feel of his skin against her lips. 

He kept her close, pressing their foreheads together, bumping their noses. It felt nice, familiar, full of promise. 

“Come to bed with me,” she whispered, pulling away so she could stand, tugging their joined hands. 

“I don’t have the willpower to say no to that right now.” 

“Then don’t,” she urged, pulling on his hand again, her bed was so close, so soft. All she wanted to do was curl up under her covers, fall asleep with Bellamy’s arms around her. This was all too much, she needed time to process this, time to fully comprehend that he felt the same way. 

With a soft exhale, he stood, following her to the bed, waiting for her to tuck herself in completely before gently taking his place beside her, careful to not jostle her head. 

“They gave me a steroid shot earlier, you won’t hurt me, I promise.” 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Bellamy sighed, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to his chest, holding her close. 

His arms felt safe and warm, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothing, The last thing she heard before she drifted off to sleep was Bellamy’s voice, wishing her goodnight, the words mumbled against the curve of her neck. 

***

“Good morn--oh, jeez,” Harper winced, throwing a hand over her eyes and turning around as she took in Bellamy and Clarke’s sleeping forms in the cramped hospital bed. 

“It’s uhh--not what it looks like,” Bellamy said sheepishly trying to flatten his wild curls, not quite untangling himself from Clarke but doing his best to seem decent in front of Harper. 

“It looks like I’ve been right this entire time,” she said smugly, raising a single eyebrow at Clarke as she set a tray of Starbucks on a nearby counter. 

“You’re crazy, the couch hurt Bellamy’s back, that’s all,” Clarke shrugged, adjusting her tank top so that her boobs weren’t spilling out of the top. Carefully, as she snuck a glance at Bellamy, who looked both exhausted and sheepish as he watched them argue. 

“You’re such a liar, I cannot believe you think I’m that stupid!” 

_ Shit.  _ Harper knew her too well, could see right through her bullshit. 

“Wait, she’s right. You totally just lied!” Bellamy exclaimed, sitting up fully in the bed so he could turn towards her, hand reaching out to grab her bicep. 

“Oh my God, I just lied!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Bellamy’s neck, burying her face in his skin. It was such a relief, like a weight had been lifted off of her. Honesty had its perks, but having to watch what she said constantly was exhausting. 

“Quick, lie again.” 

“My name is Clarke Griffin and my hair is green!” 

“Holy shit,” he said, pulling her into his lap, squeezing her so tightly that for a moment she lost her breath. It was exactly what she needed though, a reminder that she wasn’t dreaming, that this was real life. “The shot worked, you’re going to be okay.” 

Quietly, carefully, Harper backed out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As happy as she was that Clarke was back to normal, this was their moment, the first of many moments hopefully. The least she could do was let them have it alone, experience it together. 

“I have eleven toes and I’m a math teacher,” Clarke continued, almost giddy with the ease at which the words were coming out. Bellamy was equally slap happy, laughing almost uncontrollably as they continued to test her lying abilities. 

Overwhelmed by the excitement, Clarke held Bellamy’s face in her hands, surging forward to press her lips against his. 

A celebratory kiss. 

The perfect end to two weeks inside this room together and three years of hidden feelings. 

He froze for a beat, like he was in shock, before he kissed her back with equal enthusiasm, fingers digging into her waist, pulling her even closer, lining up their bodies until there wasn’t even a breath of space between them. 

She was giddy. She had control over her mind again but she didn’t have to keep her feelings a secret anymore. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” she murmured against his lips, not quite able to pull away. 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” he teased, pecking her lips, rubbing slow circles against her back, fingers catching in the fabric of her shirt. 

“I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed this sweet and silly little fic!! If you want to check out my other stuff or just be pals you can find me on Tumblr @Nakey-cats-take-bathsss
> 
> Much love to y'all, please take care of yourselves both mentally and physically, we live in a crazy world. Hope you are all being safe and staying sane. :)


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